Little Drops of Poison
by wandertogondor
Summary: Ever since the lights went out Genevieve Matheson bound herself to Sebastian Monroe despite his sociopathic tendencies. She was just his plaything. Bass/OC. WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT.
1. Living Under a Bad Sign

**Six Years after the Blackout**

"Find him! I want him alive!" Sebastian Monroe screamed, every vein in his neck visible as his knuckles turned white from gripping the gun that was on the floor of his bedroom. He turned to Gen who stood still against the door, only wearing his shirt. Her eyes were wide like a deer in headlights.

"What happened?" She whispered in short, shallow breaths. "Where's Miles?"

**Day of the Blackout**

"Why is it that every time I come in here to make you feel better, Bass, we end up having sex?"

A genuine smile spread across Sebastian's face as he stroked Genevieve's smooth skin with his thumb. He looked up into her hazel eyes which curiously studied his expressions with a fierce concentration.

"It makes me feel better." Sebastian replied, suddenly getting up to grab his clothes that were strewn across the floor. "That and I am a weapon of mass seduction."

She let out a rippling laugh sitting up on her knees and tugging the dog tags around his neck to bring him in for a kiss. Her tongue traced his lips as a low whimper pulsated from her throat. Sebastian broke away to wrap his hard arms around her waist then hoisted her hot body against his so her legs coiled around his midriff. He kissed her eyelids, her nose, her eyebrows, her forehead, brushing his lips everywhere, feather-soft, until they came to the corner of her mouth which were full like a ribbon of scarlet.

"Gen," He murmured airily by her ears when her nails came down on his toned shoulders.

Gen had stopped breathing as soon as he had touched her. Now she just, hung there, dangling over a precipice, waiting. The dark waters threatened to swallow her whole, and she stared back into them, willing them to do so if he pulled back and left her, if he just…It was an impossibility.

"Miles will kill you if he ever finds out." Her breath exhaled a warm path across his cheek. Seb gasped in his attempt to calm himself, and clenched her thighs, knowing he _should_ let go, knowing he _had_ to eventually.

Gen entangled her long fingers into his curly hair and yanked him forward so his lips crashed against hers. She knew that he was taking all her weight, standing there strong and unmovable—unchangeable.

They were desperate for each other – it hadn't changed, all this time since he was touring Iraq. All this time she still ached with the intensity, still felt overwhelmed and frantic and like she'd die unless she had him _now_ – unless she could have him inside her, all around her, everywhere until she just couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't breathe without him. She needed him so much – and she wanted him so badly, and these words were useless to convey the depth and she just knew that if he ever left... If she couldn't have him, Gen knew her soul would just crawl into a dark hole and shrivel away until she was a shell of a person. Incomplete, dead inside. Without him. He was everything that completed her, that held her together, that allowed her to exist. If he left –

She grabbed his lower lip with her teeth and bit down on it until he moaned, his short, square nails digging into her thighs. It was a clear message – _Don't you dare leave me. _

Gen let go of his lip, slanting her head so she could soothe it with a softer kiss. She felt that wave of total control in this interaction seeing how his hands were busy, and his attention was on keeping them up. And he knew it.

She moved her hands closer to his face, dragging her palms through his short, absurdly soft hair, and stroked the corners of his eyes with her fingertips.

_I love you. _

Her hands clenched in his hair again.

_I need you. _

They'd always talked so much better with their bodies than with their words, and as he fell forwards onto the bed, Gen still wrapped around him, they told each other just how they felt after all those years apart with little contact.

His hands claiming her breasts, as he stole the air out of her mouth – _you are mine. _Her grip tightening on his waist as he thrust into her with a fluid movement. His hands lifted her from beneath her back, bending her over his arms, and crushing her even closer to his chest as he deepened the kiss – _I need you._ Gen's nails dug into the hard muscles, trailing over his back, as she panted, struggling to breathe against his lips.

And suddenly there were no barriers and he thrust again and she welcomed him inside of her, clenching until he froze and just looked down at her. There was always that eternal moment as soon as he entered her; they still couldn't quite believe the completion, the total sense of oneness that overtook them when they were connected like that – as though they were one entity, as they were in everything else. Everything else they could never express in any way but this.

And then he was moving again and it was all breathlessness and heat and murmurs of '_I love you_', and desperate cries of '_don't leave me_'. And Gen just clung to him and cried and tried not to think, because if he ever left her she wouldn't survive and he knew that.

"Never," he grunted fiercely, stilling. His hard, heavy body lay poised against hers, and she could feel the tension radiating off of him. In contrast her body was molten, soft and pliable and malleable. She, the only Matheson girl, was melting.

"Gen, look at me –" he struggled to get his voice past his desire thickened throat. It was harsh and hard and commanding and Gen opened her eyes, to see him looking down. His eyes were ablaze with everything he was keeping in, and his face was tight and impassive with the control he was trying to keep over his body. "I will never, _ever_ leave you. If you promise me – if you promise –" a nerve in his jaw jumped and his eyes closed, as he struggled to get the words out. At this point they were both still horrible at the tell-all pillow talk, well, any talk except annoying the hell out of each other, fighting and yelling and teasing and cajoling and –

"I promise," Gen whispered, knowing exactly what he meant. _If you promise not to leave me too._ She removed her hand from his shoulder to glide down his face and pressed a finger against the corner of his mouth. "You're too hard to get rid of."

"Then stop crying, I'm not that horrible," he said, trying in his usual fashion to make light of the situation. He opened his eyes and if he had been able to move his face, she knew he would have grinned.

"Not by half," She said, laughing – and then he made her moan as he moved against her again, and kissed her mouth, stilling all other words. Later, tangled together amidst sweaty, tired sheets that had seen it all too many times, head pressed against his shoulder, Gen repeated it. "Not by half."

*****Revolution*****

"Where've you two been? It's nearly eight. Bass, we were supposed to go to Mickey's to get a drink before heading back to the base." Miles said obviously irritated. He flashed his wrist watch in their direction as they entered Gen's loft in Parris Island, South Carolina near his military base.

"Good afternoon to you too. Thanks, you're the best." Gen snatched her brother's mug of coffee and, without a glance back at Sebastian, walked to her room down the hall.

Once Miles heard the door close down the hallway he turned to his best friend. "So, where've you been? I called you and Gen like fifty times."

"Oh, you know, Miles," Bass clapped Miles' shoulder with a grin. "places. I don't think you'd be interested in the works."

"Uh, huh, right." He turned back to the counter to pour himself another mug of coffee, this time making one for Bass too. "And that has nothing to do with why Gen's eerily happy does it?"

"I couldn't say it does." Sebastian indifferently shifted his weight to one foot, gratefully taking a sip from the scorching mug that was handed to him.

Miles rolled his eyes dismissively, figuring that a happy sister was an improvement from the psychotic bitch she usually was. He was about to focus wholly on his coffee but then remembered the important ingredient he had forgotten to add. Rummaging through the half empty cabinets, Miles let out a breath of relief when he found a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels. He poured a liberal amount into the black coffee before figuring 'what the hell' and upended the rest of the content into his mug.

*****Revolution*****

_Hope you got your things together. Hope you are quite prepared to die. Looks like we're in for nasty weather. One eye is taken for an eye. Don't go around tonight, well, it's bound to take your life, there's a bad moon on the ris—_

Gen jumped up as the world around her turned dark. She stumbled near the door, flicking the light switch on and off without any result. The military's job of hogging the power was all but usual by this time and she felt her way toward the fuse box in the living room.

Even as she restarted each heavy switch the lights weren't restored. Her eyes darted to the balcony door which looked over the entire city.

Darkness.

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**Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Reviews would make me very happy. **


	2. His Plaything

**WARNING: Bass claims male dominance, ultimately sexualizing and objectifying Gen throughout, so there is a lot of sexual content. **

**This is solely for the sake of the story. As a full-fledged feminist, I do not agree with, tolerate, or encourage that mindset. **

* * *

**Night of the Blackout**

Terrified people swarmed out of the sky-rocketing buildings that lined the main road, and onto the dark streets of Parris Island. To say they were in a state of panic and confusion would be a vast understatement. The only sound Gen could perceive in those few empty seconds of utter dread was the thumping of her own heart. Her mind flew back to the images of Ben blabbering on about the lights turning off and never turning on again. That had seemed crazy back then but now it was reality.

Darkness enveloped her, even as she stood deathly still high up on her balcony, her knuckles sore from gripping the metal railing. All she could see was shadows converging within each other down below—that alone held her motionless with rising agitation and a dusky undercurrent.

Local residents in her building were storming down the stairs, causing such a commotion, well-deserved in their abrupt circumstances, that Gen subconsciously pressed two fingers against her eyes, taking deep breaths in order to try to calm down. She pulled out her sleek iPhone from the back pocket of her jeans, absentmindedly sliding her thumb across the blank screen in hopes of getting it to light up in a homely glow. But nothing happened. There was no rippling welcome, flashing across the phone nor was there the sign of any running industry as far as the eye could see.

After a slight pause, Gen let it fall from her fingertips and clatter against the cement by her socked feet. Immediately, the screen was fractured with innumerable spider-web looking cracks which slithered from the corner that had taken the most impact during the fall.

With more speed than she could imagine she possessed in that circumstance, Gen broke off to her room, shoving the closest articles of clothing that she could reach at the moment into Miles' old military issued rucksack. Her hand overlooked the Wellington boots and grabbed the steel-toed combat boots that had been collecting dust in the back of her closet since her service time came to a bleak end.

_Guns!_ she thought without flinching, running to the linen cabinet and shoving the towels back to grab the boxes of ammunition appropriate for her hoarded up mass of weaponry. She said a mental prayer in her head, thanking whatever higher power was sitting up there for letting her force herself to spend the last of her salary on boxes filled with thousands of shiny new bullets in total the day before.

Gen's eyes wandered from her fully packed duffel and rested on her reflection in the mirror behind her bedroom door. The moonlight shone through the drawn curtains and created a halo around her well-built figure. She cocked her head to the side, her concentration poised on her own body.

She looked like a soldier again. Hell, she already felt like one again.

Her shoulders appeared broad under the sharp, worn-looking canvas jacket she had thrown on and her face was pulled into a emotionless glare.

It was true. She was just a soldier standing ready at the dawn of a war, ready to fall back into the ranks.

There was a loud pounding from the front door which made Gen jump in surprise, wondering to herself just how long she was standing in the middle of her room staring at herself. Miles' fist nearly collided with her face when the door was flung open.

"Did Ben call you?" He rushed into the loft, heading straight for the room he had claimed as his own when he was on leave.

"No," She quickly said, her adrenaline kicking in when she saw her brother's bursts of energy. "Why?"

"We have to get out of here," was her brother's frank reply when he finished packing his own duffel, grabbing her hand and dragging her down the flights of stairs.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Gen demanded, stopping dead in her tacks so Miles was forced to face her when he was yanked back.

He towered a good foot above her, his breathing labored and his entire face in a firm scowl. "Gen, the lights are never coming back on. We have to get the hell out of here before these civilian apes catch wind. They are going to raid each and every building eventually and they are not going to let anyone stand in their way."

Before she could open her mouth to speak, he was already halfway down the next flight going down to where Sebastian was waiting with his own bag of belongings.

"Hey," Bass greeted her with a slanted smile, his eyes dancing with optimistic energy and expressiveness.

"Let's go," Miles briskly started walking into the alleyway with determination, knowing the other two would easily be able to fall into his quick trek.

*****Revolution*****

"For God's sake," Miles groaned when he caught sight of his sister stumbling to another stop twenty feet behind to pull her foot up to her knee so she could attempt to shake out a rock.

"There's a damn hitchhiker in my boot," She jumped on one foot, eventually sitting on the grassy shoulder of the local forest they were taking a short cut through. Sebastian made his way back to her help her while her brother waited impatientlytapping his foot. Miles' every facial feature was indignant but amused nonetheless before starting forward again, his boots crunching against the dried leaves on the forest bed while putting in,

"Just keep up, doggy,"

Gen's head snapped up. "Did he just call me a bitch indirectly?"

"Well, if the shoe fits," Miles called out having heard her question.

"What an ass," She chuckled, rolling her eyes and taking the hand Bass held out to her after she had fished out the small pebble that was lodged under her foot.

"I heard that too, doggy."

"Miles," Gen caught her breath, adjusting the rucksack on her back. "I know Ben called, what did he say?"

"He told me what I've been telling you for that past three hours," Miles replied, not bothering to look back.

"I got that part three hours ago, genius." She followed, piercing him with a taste of his own medicine: raw stubbornness and persistence.

Sebastian caught her hand, pulling her back to walk along side him. "He'll talk when he can wrap his head around all of this, Gen."

Gen nodded, cherishing the gentle, human look in his eyes and embracing his warm touch, unaware that that would be one of her last moments with the real Sebastian Monroe.

"You think you're gonna be okay?" He asked in a low undertone, glancing down at her familiarly.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She scoffed, with a wry grin.

"There's a hell of a lot going on, Gen, if you hadn't noticed."

"What do you want me to do, Bass? Spread my legs and show you everything?"

Miles threw a look over his shoulder briefly, appearing nauseated at such a far-off suggestion.

Gen stifled a snicker. "Too soon?"

"Maybe a bit," Bass mirrored the smile that etched her face, raking a hand through his curly hair. "You Army girls really know how to pick 'em."

"Are you trying to distract me with moot compliments?"

"Why, is it working?"

Gen quickened her pace, almost determined to make him chase her. Somehow he always seemed to know just what she wanted and increased his speed to fall back by her side.

"What?" she asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze. She recognized the look in his eyes. That gleam that was far from evil but nowhere near innocent either.

"Gen!" She could almost see that bored expression on Miles' face when he called her. "Stop patronizing him."

Gen bit the inside of her cheek, trying to suppress the mischievous, self-confident smile forced her mouth into a sideways curve.

When they were younger, she would always be the one to on the receiving end of the boyish tricks formulated by her brothers and Bass. On more than one occasion, Sebastian got black and purple bruises and broke various parts of his body from the force of Gen's relentless hail storm of punches and kicks when he'd harmlessly pull the ends of her pigtails or put reptiles and amphibians in her bed. They were gifts from the goodness of his nine-year old heart and he never understood why she reacted like he had started World War 3 or was the cause of mass genocide and rebellion.

**Six Years after the Blackout**

Sebastian restlessly paced the length of the bedroom. Candles were lit near every corner, casting a dim light throughout the large room. Gen's cheek was pressed against the smooth bedpost, her eyes following his every move. Goosebumps rose on her bare legs from the draft through the shattered window where she had last saw her older brother jumping through. She pulled Sebastian's shirt closer against her body, not daring to move.

Even now, when Sebastian possessed little less than regular human compassion in his body, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Maybe she thought if she looked away he'd be lost forever—out of her power to offer his decaying soul any sort of redemption.

For a brief second, Gen remembered...she remembered the part of him that was alive once so long ago.

He could kiss her and please her and take her to the highest depths of sheer ecstasy, but he couldn't light that spark anymore.

She couldn't help him. He was too far gone.

"Where're you going?" Bass snapped when he caught sight of her slip toward the door.

"I was..." As soon as the words faintly escaped her mouth it evaporated in the long distance between them, not even lingering as a hanging, fading thought.

He stared at her with his beautiful green eyes, making the pit of Gen's stomach sink in a sharp downward spiral of lust.

He was hers. Every inch of his toned, irresistible body belonged to her and only her. That sense of possession alone was enough for Gen to dismiss every aching doubt she held toward him.

"Stay with me." He ordered with his arms extended out to her.

Gen's lips parted as she walked toward him and all his beguiling charm. Every silent, barefooted step she took closer towards the General of the Militia the more her soul shrieked and scratched mercilessly inside.

"You okay, babe?" His damning eyes furrowed in empty concern.

Gen's breathing hitched slightly. He sensed the change and smoothly allowed his hands to find the hem of the shirt she wore. Her hips buckled against his—suddenly helpless and lacking free-will under his gaze.

"I'm fine," she said in a shaky, cracked voice, shuddering when his knuckles brushed against her skin.

_I'm just not happy._

Her hands ran up his firm biceps, and she clutched a fistful of the thermal he had thrown on. As much as she tried now, Gen could never unlock the titanium gate that barred his stone heart.

"I'm not that terrible," He gripped her waist, crushing her hipbone against his until she let out a moan.

"Not...by half." Gen panted between shock waves of painful pleasure, recognizing the sick mind game he was playing but unable and unwilling to fight back in her own defense.

He thrust his midriff against hers again, and this time Gen yelped in surprise, falling forward so her chin was resting in the curve of his shoulder blade.

"Not by half," She repeated, squinting back the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.

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**A big thank you to TomHiddlestonLover10 who, from the goodness of her heart, have been reading over and correcting my little mistakes. Check out her profile, it'll be well worth it :)**

**Also, Jeremy Baker is going to be in the next chapter and it is going to be amazing! Keep a head's up :)**


	3. There's a Heaven Above You

**Six Months after the Blackout**

Gen sat on a dried log beside the fire that she had put together, her back was straight and her eyes blankly stared out into the dusky distance beyond the cluster of trees.

"What's wrong with her?" Jeremy Baker asked, combing his disheveled hair with his fingers, and motioning to Gen, while holding a damp cloth to his black eye.

Miles crouched beside him and wistfully threw his gaze at his little sister's profile. It wasn't the Blackout that corroded her soul. It wasn't what left her groping in a dark, muddy foxhole in the middle of a wasteland. He distantly recalled random images of watching her run around the yard of their family home barefooted in the prime of every girl's pigtail phase, trying to catch butterflies in her cupped hands. Years later where he had once seen a fresh second lieutenant standing, rested and ready to face the big bad world, there now sat a jaded young woman scarred by the cruelty of war.

Even when he had gone to pick her up at the airport after her long two-year tour he knew she had changed. Her short, slow strides down the waxed tiles of the airport halls were the heavy footfalls of a defeated idealist and the minute smile she plastered on her face told him that she had little to no innocence left to give to the world nor to keep for herself.

**Three Years before the Blackout**

"Would you relax?" Bass groaned in annoyance, elbowing his best friend's side. "She'll come when she comes. You don't have to be so damn jumpy."

"I'm not jumpy," Miles resentfully justified, his hands forming a tight fist in the front pockets of his jeans.

Two years, he thought. It had been two years since he had seen his little sister face to face.

She used to call occasionally when her squad would be in range of the telephone poles; her conversations were always brief and general.

_How's Ben…Bass…? _

The works.

As the months wore on, phone calls were shorter and came less frequently. There were more empty gaps and a shorter amount of time for Miles to think about filling them up. But when she had called Bass, and not him, a few weeks back with the news that she was heading home to the States, Miles thought it would be the right time to get the wheels back on the tracks of normalcy.

He saw her emerge from the parting crowd of hugs, kisses, and tears at the Hilton Head Airport. Gen's face showed more disillusionment than joy and, when she dragged her suitcase to a stop in front of them, she held out a hand, ignoring—or not noticing—the way her brother's arms were outstretched for a hug.

"Hey, Miles," was her simple greeting. "Bass." She nodded to the man standing beside him who was just as perplexed at her change of character.

At first, Miles figured it was shell-shock. It had happened to Bass after the two tours that left him ragged and suicidal. A part of him believed that what happened to his best friend would never happen to his sister. Miles genuinely believed that Gen would never decay and waste away. But Gen was so different to Bass that she was practically the same.

"He's dying!" She wailed from her room one afternoon in the months since she returned home.

Once he heard her cry, Miles who was relaxing in the front of the TV in the living room with cold beers and a collection of Denzel Washington movies, sprinted to see what had her near hysteria. When he flung the door open he saw Gen curled on the ground under the window, where the rays of sunlight danced, with her potted aloe vera. Its meaty stalks were no longer a healthy green but a sickly shade of pink. The stems that once had promising little flower buds were now dried and shriveled, standing aloofly between the groupings.

Her once spotlessly clean room was now trashed with empty bottles and clothing strewn everywhere except the closet.

"Elwood's dying." She repeated, her fingers shaking as she pulled the pot closer near her heaving chest, tears rolling off her high cheekbone like stinging pellets against the sensitive red skin and splattering on the hardwood floor.

It took every ounce of courage Miles could muster within himself to approach his baby sister. The post-traumatic stress was tearing her apart, taking large chunks at a time with no mercy.

"It's just a plant, Genny," He soothed, carefully sitting next to her and rubbing awkward circles on her shoulder for a few seconds before stopping in embarrassment.

"He's not just a plant, Miles," she hiccuped, her body loosening as she sprawled out on her stomach, craning her neck to stare up at his face. "He's not supposed to die. Why does everything I touch die?"

Miles took her balled up hand, opened her cold fingers and placed it on his stubble cheek.

"I'm not going to die, Gen." His heart hurt to see her like this. "I promise I will _never_ leave you."

It was a promise that was easy for him to owe her. He found that it wasn't so much that'd he'd leave her but rather if she would be willing to come with him and damn herself to his purgatory.

**Six Months after the Blackout**

Miles wished he could have stopped her from taking that loaded Army carrier overseas. He wished that he could have tried a little harder to talk her out of it because she had PTSD written all over her face ever since.

And her eyes—Miles mentally braced himself as he remembered—her eyes told him stories that he wished she didn't see. He couldn't see what she had seen, but he could tell that she saw.

"Just don't touch her," He advised in a low voice to Baker, getting to his feet.

"Hey, look, man," Jeremy began nervously, trying to explain that he didn't have any intention of trying to mess around with her after what he saw Miles do to the man who had beat him up.

"I'm not the one you should be afraid of," Miles broke off, dragging his stare off his sister and looking down to the blond man. "She's the one you should look out for. I tried seeing if she was alright once. It wasn't pretty." he blew a decreasing whistle while twirling a finger into a downward spiral. "Ask Bass, she near went nuts."

"She near went nuts," Bass repeated unenthusiastically, equally concerned about Gen's sudden state. He could see pain radiating off of her aura because that had been him a few years ago.

He wouldn't be able to sleep and when he did manage to all he'd see behind closed eyes were blood-curdling nightmares and flashbacks.

**Two Years before the Blackout**

"Hey," Gen called out softly, shutting her car door and hiking up a small incline with long strides to where Sebastian sat in front of his family's gravestones. She squirmed comfortably on the loose dirt beside him and crossed her ankles, looking out over the field-patched farmland across the street from where they sat. "Visiting the folks, huh? I do that too sometimes." There was a long pause. "I'm racking my mind trying to think of sometime to say to you."

"You don't have to say anything," He assured, his words slightly slurred. "Just tell me that every thing's going to be okay."

Gen's forehead tensed, and her mouth spontaneously opened to thoughtlessly spew out the beautiful lie that he requested, but she caught herself before the innocent words could escape.

"Honey, I can't promise you that. If I did then shoot me now, I don't deserve to be any friend of yours. Bass," She placed a hand on his damp cheek to look at his face. "you don't need anything I can offer you. All I ask is that you let me in and let me love you 'cause…" Gen's words faltered and she bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep herself from sputtering and coughing like an engine until she died out altogether. "'cause Miles needs you alive. _I _need you. Now I know sleepless nights and—and that feeling of being one step behind the world. Just let me help you." She pleaded, tugging at her dry lips with her teeth and dropping her hand down to the grass between them.

Through her heartfelt monologue, Bass studied her every move. His eyes ran down her tired posture then back up to her face. There was no subliminal intent or idle fillers that lingered to sugar coat anything. She was a woman with clear substance. The subject of her truth was never what a person wanted to hear but rather what she knew they had to know about themselves.

"Here," she handed him a bottle of whiskey that she had brought with her. "something stronger to run ourselves into the ground with." Genevieve leaned her jaw against her knuckles, painfully watching as he took a long swig. "You know, some people take medication."

"Do you, Gen?" He questioned, putting the bottle on his lap. "'Cause Iraq didn't leave you squeaky clean either."

"Whiskey's my poison of choice," She admitted inaudibly, taking the cold bottle that she had bought less than ten minutes ago from a local liquor store, allowing the chilled liquid to flow down her throat.

"You said 'ourselves.'" Bass looked over at her in surprise. "As in the both of us running it to the ground."

"Personally, I wouldn't mind it. Both of us, I mean." Gen replied with a half-hearted shrug, unaware of the fact that he was looking at her like she had just given him the entire world without a second thought. "Bass, give me the gun."

"I wasn't-I wasn't going to use it."

"That's exactly what I said to Miles two weeks ago." Gen shifted on her knees to sit directly in front of him, blocking his eyes from the sight of the headstones with the names of his parents and sisters. "But you and I both know that's a lie."

Gen always fell fast, fast and hard, because the first time he made her smile, something went off inside her heart that she wasn't ready for at all. She wasn't supposed to care about her brother's friends and suddenly she did. She always tried to find ways to make him happier than she wasn't. She'd be the first person he'd see through a hangover the morning after a big, blacked-out party. She'd be sitting in the kitchen reading her old copy of _Huck Finn _with a steaming cup of hot coffee waiting for him when he would finally stumble in beside her, his bed-head making him look more and more attractive then she let him down for. In the end, it was an exhilarating free fall and a hard landing, and terrifying, but when she thought about Bass, she found no room inside to be afraid.

Sebastian falls so slowly that he doesn't realize he's falling at all. He loved women. All kinds of women. They didn't have to be anything but good-looking for him to instantly make a move at them. But he never gave enough of a damn for all those women to love them in a legitimate way. All through high school one eye would be on the cheerleaders and the other would be on Gen. It wasn't for any particular reason. She was his best friend's sister. He felt an obligation to push her out of the way of horny douche-bags who would say and do anything to get her in bed with them. As they grew up, he found himself going out of his way to make her smile, because every time she did, his heart felt like it might explode. He may have slept around more times than he could count but she never seemed to realize it even if she did know better than anyone what he did. There was always that distance of unspoken, mutual fears between them, something only they could understand together. And when they finally found a way to be together in the back seat of her car that night, he realized how far in love he already was. For Bass, the fall was slow. The landing was soft, and warm, and felt a lot like Gen wrapped in his arms.

**Six Months after the Blackout**

"Did she get dropped on her head one too many times as a kid?" Jeremy smirked harmlessly but was stared down by a glare from Bass and an unamused scowl from Miles. "I'll stop."

"What'd you do, Blondie?" Gen suddenly turned, laughing warmly, unaware of her long silence which held her brother on edge. "I haven't seen Miles look like that since I told him I lost my virginity in a public bathroom."

The look on Miles' face was a clear sign that he obviously didn't find her pining funny. But Bass stood behind them trying to suppress the pulsating excitement that sparked his memories.

"I'm joking," Gen cracked a wide grin. "it was in a cemetery."

"Well," Jeremy looked between the two siblings, putting his lips together and nodding in overly exaggerated approval. "that escalated quickly."

"Let's head out," Miles grimly shouldered his pack and kicked a pile of dirt onto the fire pit with the side of his boot. "If you're feeling as good as your mouth suggests you are," He stuck a threatening finger at Jeremy. "then get your stuff and keep up. We don't sympathize with stragglers."

"Whoa, Mr. Chuckles is coming too?" Gen exclaimed, casting an incredulous look first at Bass then at Miles.

"Yeah, so?" Her brother coolly dismissed, not seeing the big deal. "Power by numbers."

"I think you mean 'murder by numbers,' Miles. This guy is going to make me go stark-raving mad."

"Too late for that," Miles muttered under his breath, heading back on the empty road to Chicago.

**Six Years after the Blackout**

Gen adjusted her potted plant in front of the large window that overlooked the rooftops of Philadelphia. It had been three months since the night of the failed assassination and she knew that the best thing for her to do was to stay low and under the radar so no one would have a reason to pin anything on her. There was a knock on her door followed by the latch opening and a pair of boots stepping into the stone tiled bedroom.

"Miss Matheson," A soft voice inquired.

Gen turned to see one of Bass's top-ranking officers standing in the middle of her room, nervously fidgeting with the bill of his hat in his hands.

"What?" She snapped, not enjoying being interrupted by anyone other than Sebastian Monroe himself.

"Ma'am, I—"

"What's your name, Major?" Gen cut in rudely. She knew the guy by face but never cared enough to look down at the name tag that rested over his chest.

"I'm—I'm Major Fredrick Plummely, ma'am."

"Well, what do you want, Major Plummely?"

"As I was saying, ma'am," He came several steps closer to her, his voice lowered to a whisper. "we know that your brother was behind the attempt to assassinate General Monroe."

"Yeah, what else?" She rolled her eyes. "Did you also come here to tell me that wood comes from trees and music from a unicorn's ass?"

"What's a unicorn, ma'am?" He stammered but quickly went on when she glared. "To be entirely direct, I wanted to finish the job your brother started. Miles Matheson was my inspiration to stand up to the dictatorship that Monroe is leading."

"What are you going to do about it?" Gen put stressed emphasis on the 'you' with boredom.

"Not me alone, ma'am. Since you are close to Monroe all I ask is that you aid me." He stood up straighter, gaining more confidence as he went on and noticed her body language loosen up.

"How does this benefit me in any way, Major?" She questioned causally gliding toward the head of her bed, watching him stutter and search for a logically answer. "What would I gain from helping you kill him?"

"Well, nothing, ma'am." He finally admitted hesitantly. "But-"

"Do you have any idea what Sebastian Monroe will do to the both of us if he finds out that we've been conspiring against him?" Gen asked, her eyes showing more interest. She smoothly slid her hand under her pillow, wrapping her fingers around the loaded gun.

"He wouldn't do anything to you," Plummely sneered without the timid mask he wore, drawing his pistol out and aiming it at her. "Now I can tell Monroe that he can't trust anyone in this place. Not even his whore."

Gen stared at him, concentrating on following any movement that would lead to him emptying a round into her body. "That wasn't very nice."

She pulled the trigger on her own gun, the sound was silenced through the pillow and the bullet ripped through the fabric as Plummely started firing off rounds in her direction. Gen ducked to the floor, and crawled under the bed frame to shoot at his ankles.

With a loud thump, Plummely was holding his wounds on the floorboards, cursing and shooting random bullets into the historic walls, shattering pictures and fracturing plaster. Gen slid out when she heard the clicking of the empty hammer. She kicked the pistol out of his hand, and shot the main arteries in his legs before taking out his arms.

"That was your ticket to a long trip down to hell." She spat above his head, blood splattering across her face as she used her last bullet to break through his skull.

*****Revolution*****

Sebastian leaned comfortably back in his chair, a finger tracing the outline of his amused smirk. He watched her lash out, her eyes bright with pent up anger and her body rigid as she braced herself against his well-polished desk, leaning forward to lock eyes with him. Even after decades of growing accustomed to her rage, Sebastian still found himself pleasantly aroused at her display of unfiltered emotion.

"That prick almost started a firefight in my room and blew a bullet hole through my only copy of _Huck Finn_! What are you going to do about it?" Gen demanded, leaving a dull mark in the wood polish with her oval fingernail.

"Hmm?" He raised his eyebrows, wordlessly implying that he hadn't paid attention and that she should repeat what she had said.

"Please, don't listen to a word I say," She threw her hands up sardonically, unabashedly walking back to the door. "All these screams sound the same to you."

"Darling," Bass stood, chuckling. "Darling, come back."

Gen stopped, her entire body was tense with frustration. With a huff, she gathered all her self-respect and dignity to brace her for the sight she'd see when she turned around. Bass stood beside his desk, one hand in his pocket and his tall, muscular figure blocking out the bright sunlight that streamed in from the window behind him.

"This better be good," She stood close enough to have to look up to meet his gaze.

"I'll get you another copy of _Huck Finn_." His breath caressed the lock of hair against her forehead that had come loose.

"Thank _you_," Gen's voice curved upward, expecting him to say more.

"What else do you want?" He inquired, knowing quite well that anything she wanted would be hers the moment the request left her mouth.

She pursed her lips, deep in thought, inhaling through her nose before relaxing again, leaning against his chest and whispering,

"I can't think of anything off the top of my head."

"How about I give you an inch and take you a mile?" He suggested, pressing his palm against the small of her back, bringing her close.

"Ah," Gen stopped him from continuing, holding a finger to his lips. "You know I was born in Germany. That 'American thighs' line still won't work."

"German women are hot too." He put in, noticing a brief fire light in her eyes then fade away as fast as it came.

""Why'd Plummely feed me that story about trying to kill you anyway?"

"I wanted to see if you'd kill him for it or not."

"Why Plummely?"

"I didn't trust Plummely," He riled with disgust. "He was...unsettling. So I sent him to you, telling him to get you to buy to see where your loyalties lie."

"Well, now you know. And next time you need me to kill someone give me a head's up, alright, Bass? I don't like surprises. I especially don't like little mice knocking on my door in the middle of the day and blowing the holy hell out of poor Huck."

"I'll get right on that, Gen," He took a step back to focus more clearly on her face. "But you have to do something for me first."

Gen scoffed. Nowadays with Bass the tables would always turn back around on her, and because she pretended to bend to his every whim and fancy to get an upper hand, she nodded and said, "I like a challenge."

"We've got new recruits coming in from the ships off the port down in Baltimore. You wanna welcome them with all your womanly charm?"

"Does this mean I get to shoot one of them?" Her mischievous smile reached her eyes. Sebastian lowered his face close to hers, briefly closing the space between them with a short kiss.

"If that's what you want to do, then yes." He whispered in a low, raspy voice.

*****Revolution*****

"Let me guess," Jeremy Baker started with a smirk when Gen found him leaning against the brick wall as the new recruits stood at attention in the loading dock as soon as they came out of the ships.

"Give me your gun, Baker," She ordered abruptly, frowning when he mocked a pout obviously trying to ruffle her feathers. When Gen unrelentingly stood firm in front of him. Baker cast a hesitant glance at Monroe who was watching the entire exchange from where he stood a few feet away and nodded slightly in approval.

"Fine," The blond-haired man groaned sarcastically while begrudgingly snapping the button on his holster open and putting his gun in her outstretched hand. "You know, you could have let me guess."

Gen snatched the .44 Magnum from his hand and slowly walked down the ranks while other uniformed officers and non-coms watched her in silent anticipation.

"Hey," She stopped to grab a young boy, not even nineteen years old, by his shirt front. "you don't look at me! You look ahead, soldier. Eyeball me again and I'll rip your spine out through your mouth."

She walked backwards until she could see the entire line of young men in clean uniforms. "You want to hate me?" Her voice rose so that every single person standing around her could hear. "Good. Now you and the guy next to you have something in common." She started pacing, keeping her eyes glued to the ranks. "Take a good look, boys, 'cause they're all you got after this. Wipe mama's milk off your mouth and buck up. I know you don't give a damn about me, that's why I wouldn't go against the rebels with you. But when your buddy goes down on the field because you didn't have his back I assure you that it will weigh on your conscience. Take it from someone who's been across that bridge.

"I bet you're thinking 'This bitch's gotta plug herself for a week every month. What the hell does she know about loss?' What I know is that you don't know _shit _about loss. Because loss isn't losing. Loss is the guilt of not being strong enough to save someone. And true loss can only occur when you love someone more than you love yourself. So don't fight 'cause I'm telling you to. Fight because you have to keep the man next to you alive."

Gen wasn't on the same terms with the words she spoke.

She was losing the game.

She lost her parents, Ben, Miles, and everyday she could see the humanity in Sebastian Monroe's eyes get dimmer and dimmer.

And the only way for her to suppress that loss was to drown in her own poisons.

That night as she curled up in the faded wing chair beside a fat candle with the dog-eared copy of _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn _that she had found on the foot of her bed tied in a red ribbon with a note from Monroe, Gen heard her door open followed by a single pair of footsteps approach where she sat.

"I never understood why you liked this book so much," Sebastian's voice got closer when he leaned against the back rest of the chair, looking down over her shoulder.

Gen didn't bother looking up at him. "Same reason you've kept me around for so long, Bass,"

"And why is that?" He inquired smoothly, resting his chin against the fabric lining.

"I don't know, why have you?" She questioned with equal curiosity adding a hint of exasperation.

Bass came around to standing in front of her with heavy footfalls. His eyes were so intently piercing through her body that Gen forgot what it felt like to breath for a moment. "Why have I kept you around, Gen? 'Cause I don't trust anyone else."

She pushed her body out of the chair with the leg she had folded underneath her and took his hand, entwining her fingers through his, never breaking eye contact. "I hope you mean that. What Miles did-"

"Shhh," Bass brought his free hand around her throat, his fingers gliding up to brush against her lips, his eyes still intensely concentrated on what he sensed. "We buried that hatchet."

Gen suddenly recalled her favorite scene from _Moulin Rouge._

_First, there is desire!_

_Then...passion!_

_Then suspicion!_

_Jealousy, Angry, Betrayal!_

_When love is for the higher bidder, there is no trust._

_Without trust, there is no love!_

"El tango de Roxanne," She breathed, feeling the sexual intensity mount to a new high in such little time.

Sebastian pried himself away from her and, with a knowing, devilish grin, walked out of the room and down the hallway, leaving her feeling her fingertips in wordless fury.

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**I've been having a pretty crappy day so I only hope you can make it better by leaving a review as to whether you liked it or not :) and I hope your day is awesome! **

**-wandertogondor**


	4. Dial M for Hell

**Uhm, yeah...can we just pretend that Emma didn't happen? That'd be great.**

**Rachel's coming into the picture in the next chapter and at this point we're like two or three episodes into the show. **

**Hope you enjoy and leave a review if you feel inclined to :)**

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**Hours before the Assassination**

"Gen, he's crazy," Miles grit his teeth, trying to keep his voice down as he was speaking to his sister in a secluded corner.

"He's your best friend," She spit back, disgusted.

"He's also a raging psychopath! Now, you can either come with me or you can stay here." Miles roughly threw her an option.

"I'm staying." She declared with shaky confidence.

Gen hadn't forgotten the day her older brother sat beside her on the floor of her room, put her hand on his stubble face and promised that he would never leave her. He promised that he would never...

"Okay," He nodded resolutely, not even attempting to convince her to change her mind. "Goodbye Gen." He kissed her forehead briefly before briskly disappearing down the corridor.

That was the last time Gen spoke to him.

**15 Years After the Blackout**

The sun was shining through the window when she awoke.

She hated it.

Gen threw the comforter over her face in an attempt to block the huge ball of fire's bright rays. Of all the morning's in Philadelphia. It couldn't be raining, or gloomy, or snowing, No, it had to be bright and shiny.

The world hated her.

Sebastian Monroe hated her.

The murders and the tests didn't stop with Plummely. Oh, no! His paranoia kept turning against more and more people which meant that more of Gen's fictional boyfriend's were shot up.

She could feel the warmth of the bright day on her face as he lifted the comforter. "Uhngg..." She grumbled, "What are you doing…!" She reached for the blanket blindly and he sniggered at her futile attempt. Not getting what she wanted, she flopped her arms down at her sides and grudgingly opened her eyelids.

"Just making sure you were still among the living," Bass quipped. His grin was making her sick. She heard the bed creak as it accommodated his weight as he sat down.

"Unfortunately," She grumbled.

"I'm disappointed though, Gen...I hoped that you wallowed in pure hatred for me naked," Sebastian grinned, tugging at damp towel she had wrapped around her body after her bath the night before. "But this is close enough."

Gen didn't respond, didn't make a comment or a sound. She just sank into the warm, clean pillow, shutting her eyes and trying to imagine her home in South Carolina.

It seemed so far away from Pennsylvania.

"It was just another test," He urged, trying to loosen her taunt muscles by massaging her back with calm circles.

"Imagine," Gen sighed disconsolately. "all this testing and me without my number two pencil."

"Don't be like that," Sebastian leaned over and mumbled, running his lips over her silky smooth shoulders, mixing kisses in with bites. "Nine years and I still love you. Why do I love you, Gen?" His breath was at her ear, then tenderly nipping her throat, folding over her until she felt like she had disappeared entirely.

Gen clutched the knot that held the towel around her and shrunk further into the sheets, biting her lips so no sound would escape to fuel him onward.

"Bass," She made her voice sweet, like liquid candy running over her tongue. She didn't bother with eye contact, couldn't look at his face without seeing the flame.

He reassessed his position on the bed, unbuttoning his jacket and pressing himself against her...almost sane and normal.

"How do you do that?" She lay there with bated breath, trying not to explode in self-loathing. "How do you touch me like that?"

"Skillful fingers, sweetheart," Bass replied, holding his hand out in front of them, relaxing when he felt the droplets of water from her hair soak through his shirt.

"I want to go home." She whispered, shivering when the first of the morning breeze sneaked in through the cracked window pane.

"There's nothing left in Indiana."

"I hate it here," Gen hesitantly admitted, bracing herself for his reaction.

Sebastian was silent-not in any sort of anger or frustration. This was the girl who had had a trust fund hidden safely in the dark. There was nothing he loved better than watching. He wanted her spread out and flushed with tiny red flickers wherever his lips touched - her hazel eyes glimmering. His mouth would chart the pale blue veins and looping whorls up her abdomen, all loose-limbed and swollen underneath him by the time his lips reached hers. He loved the way she would split apart into little pieces - split apart into tiny moans that were glued back together with a 'holy fuck' and the hot rush surging through the both of them.

Now all he could do was throw one arm over her possessively, enraged at her lack of cooperation. With one swift movement, Bass had her hands pinned above her head at the wrist, looking down at the way her black hair fanned around her head, contrasting with the white pillow. He tilted his head to the side, owlishly blinking at her unwilling stillness. His grip on her relaxed eventually; he looked deep in her eyes and he saw nothing. There was no love, no sense of understanding or care. There was only a reflection of his emotionless eyes in her returning gaze.

So he sat up, rolled off of her, and stood on his own two feet, his toes curling in his boots with a flushing feeling of total abandonment.

Gen sat up slowly, carefully contemplating the words that she had uttered so many times with gentle urging. "Tell me what's wrong," She held her arms out now, expecting him to climb back in for her withheld comfort.

Bass buttoned up his jacket, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows by habit. He put one knee on the mattress, and leaned in to stop inches away from her face. "People talk, Gen," The sultry rasp that laced his strained voice with raw pain and suppressed denial was more than evident at such close contact.

"Everybody talks," was her bemused response, all of her concentration focused wholly on his lips which seemed so close, yet so far, moving with each word in a untouchable caress that she just wanted to reach out and feel.

"They talk about me. But more importantly, they have a lot to say about you," He grabbed the bed post to steady himself as he leaned closer and closer into her. "All of them...standing in their corners with their hands over their mouths, whispering like old women."

His eyes scanned her face, her body, her stare. A part of him desperately wanted to find the sinkhole she was drowning in. He wanted to be everything to her. He didn't want her to be able to survive without him. He studied the slightest movement of her muscles, putting two and two together-he wanted to find the clear-cut conclusion that she was unfaithful.

But hadn't he been?

He didn't spare any of his own mistresses in place of Gen. But it wouldn't be right of her to set aside her love for him by sleeping with one of his officers-or anyone for that matter.

Bass reached into his back pocket and pulled out a switchblade, with a flick of his wrist the blade opened and he released the bedpost to straddle himself over her. Gen's line of sight shifted between the knife and General Monroe. Sebastian sensed fear in her. He sensed silent opposition but that wasn't enough for him to back down. He pushed her in the bedsheets so she lay flat on her back, and shifted his position over her so he could tear off the heavy towel.

A smile played at the corner of his lips when he saw her chest bared and heaving in dreaded anticipation when he leaned over with the knife.

"I don't want to do this to you, Gen," The fingers of his free hand ran over her breasts, fingertips grazing over her nipples as if he was holding himself back from ravaging her then and there. He bent over, poising the tip of the blade against her flesh above her heart. "You." The steel broke through the skin, drawing crimson beads of blood in its wake.

He carved into her body, slicing the jagged letter 'M' through the blood pool which was pouring out of the previous cuts and slithered down her side to stain the sheets.

"Are."

Unable to hold back the pain, Gen opened her mouth and screamed; not daring to squirm and struggle but tilted her head up and screamed into the ceiling.

"Mine!" Sebastian snarled, connecting the starting point of the letter around in a partially completed circle to meet the ending point so it matched the insignia of the Monroe Republic. He dropped the stained knife on the pillow and reached back for the bottle of whiskey that sat half-full on the bedside table. He smashed the neck of the bottle on the edge of the headboard, resulting in sharp fragments of glass to fall like glistening diamonds on the pillows.

Gen's breathing was ragged and erratic and her screams went several octaves higher when he upended the entire bottle on her. Blood and liquor mixed together quickly, the sticky substance covering Gen's chest, neck and arms. When that first tear spilled out of her eyes, Sebastian Monroe parted a grin, bringing his head down to kiss and suck and lick at the blood and the whiskey on her quivering body.

"Holy fuck," She moaned, clapping her hand against her forehead and digging her nails into her own scalp. "Holy fuck."

Sebastian raised his head, blood dripping off his chin and the tip of his nose and smudged across his cheek, and let out an ominous, baritone chuckle. "There's nothing holy about what I'm going to do to you, sweetheart."

_M_, Gen thought. _M for Monroe, for Matheson, for Masochism, for Murder, for Merciless...for proof that she was his. Mine_, she could hear his voice repeat over and over and over again in her head. _You. Are. Mine._

"Bass, stop," She tried pushing him away when he savagely bit the soft area of her throat but he came on more determined. "Stop!" She screamed, losing the mattress and landing hard against the floor.

Sebastian squatted beside her soon after, reaching his hand out to see if she was okay but Gen smacked it away.

"You don't want me to be with you, you don't want me to be with someone else. How miserable do I have to be until you're happy?" She sobbed, huddling in the corner against the wall, bringing her knees up toward her chest.

Sebastian dragged the back of his wrist across his face, a low growl vibrating from his throat.

"You just carved into me like a thanksgiving turkey, Bass!" Gen scrambled to her feet, hurriedly stepping into her panties and wincing when she forced her arm to clasp the hook on her bra. "You're not the man you used to be! I've accepted that because that man is dead. But for the love of God, stop torturing me to prove that you have the upper hand. I know that you do! Just treat me like a human being. Why are you doing this to me?"

"I don't want to lose you too." He quietly justified.

Gen blanched in disbelief. All those years of twisted mind games and harsh love-making was a sure fire way to run her out. But he thought he could take her to the brink of death and demand that she stay with him in return?

What dreams men have!

Gen decided to play one last card. One last goodbye to seal her fate forever.

"I...am broken, Bass." Tears rained down her face. "I've shattered so many times I can't put myself back together anymore."

"What do you want me to do, Gen?" He stood and demanded angrily, arms outstretched.

"Treat me like a lady but fuck me like a dirty whore, Sebastian Monroe."

Bass stripped her of her limited clothes before fumbling with his own. He hauled her up in his arms and laid her on the bed of blood, booze, and glass.

He pulled at her hair, dug his fingertips into her flushed skin with hot, desperate pressure-he kissed harder, bit deeper, thrust faster...never giving up on her until even he couldn't go on any longer.

And when Sebastian had pulled on his clothes and left her side, Gen cried into the sheets. She cried because she was so alone, and felt so violated and tainted.

She cried mainly because her brother left her alone with the man she thought she loved.


	5. Like Toy Soldiers

**Unfortunately, it's late and I didn't have much will power to reread and edit this entire chapter. I just wanted to hurry up and post another chapter for ya'll. So I hope you can find it in yourselves to ignore my mistakes. I'll fix 'em up later :)**

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**Several Years Before the Blackout**

"Do they know we're coming back?" Bass asked as he followed Miles out of the taxi cab that had transported them all the way from the airport to the Matheson's front door.

"Nope," Miles' popped the 'p' dismissively, motioning with his hand for Bass to get the duffels in the trunk while he paid the cab driver.

"Hey," Sebastian lowered his voice, a boyish grin across his face, and leaned in secretively. "you think Gen'll be glad to see me?"

"Glad enough to punch you in the balls, Bass," He replied. It never bothered Miles how his best friend always tried getting on Gen's good side. All his friends tried doing that. But Miles knew his sister was tough as rusty nails, twice as toxic, and didn't have a good side - rain or shine.

"That was one time, Miles. Besides, it was a love tap." The curly haired man declared, the smile that was still on his mouth quickly making his green eyes sparkle as they walked up the white porch. "She loves me."

"No," Miles stopped at the screened storm door and looked back at his friend, a low chuckle lacing his words. "No, she really doesn't."

The long squeak of the door sent a shiver down Miles' spine and his chest ached in anticipation. The wafting aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies nostalgically led him into the kitchen. He ran his fingertips along the familiar counter tops that he used to peer over as a child to watch his mother chop vegetables or mix cake batter. Now he towered over the old-fashioned counters, looking down at the spotlessly clean tiling.

It was really by chance that he found the acceptance letter crumbled up in a tight ball beside the trash can which needed to be emptied and taken out to the front. Miles was just about to ignore it altogether and go straight for the tray of cooling cookies but he leaned down and caught the paper ball, his six-foot tall body wavered but he caught himself against the island at the last minute.

"Easy there," Bass jolted forward, ready to to grab his best friend. "I didn't sleep with one eye open just for you to break your neck in your own house."

Miles didn't reply, he smoothed the crumpled paper out on his chest before bringing it close to his eyes to make out the words . His concentration was too busy focused on the lines of letters that set an earth shattering explosion to go off in his core to register actual words that Bass spoke,

"What's that?" He peered over Miles' shoulder.

"She enlisted," Miles flicked the letter on the table lazily, jumping slightly when Bass slammed his palm down against the paper before it fluttered to the ground. "She heads out in a couple of days."

*****Revolution*****

Gen woke up warm.

She carefully maneuvered her sore body from the itchy, well manicured grass above her parents' grave. It took her a moment to adjust her eyes to her surroundings before realizing the canvas jacket that was draped across her shoulders. The heavy material smelt pleasantly familiar and she unconsciously pulled it closer against her.

"Good morning, Marilyn," A soft voice whispered in her ear.

Gen twisted her body to throw her arms around Bass's neck. "Monroe!" She nearly cried, fiercely holding a fistful of the thin t-shirt he wore. Bass sat up bringing Gen along with him so she was straddled on his midriff, still clutching his shirt and the back of his neck.

"I always knew you loved me," He laughed into her hair, cherishing the feeling of her body pressed against his.

They molded together perfectly, he thought, and it would be stupid of him to say that he wasn't just a little bit in love with her when she readily held on to him. He could feel a blush creep up and color his ears when she buried her face in the curve of his neck, gently pressing her lips against his skin. The kiss Gen planted wasn't even a kiss when Bass thought about it long enough as he kept her close, surprised that she still stayed in the seemingly uncomfortable position with her knees awkwardly resting on the ground next to his waist.

Gen was never a hugger. She wasn't one for dewy-eyed chick flicks either. Growing up, Gen would hit the hardest and fling herself into the first childish bet posed by the other, less willing, boys. She didn't like the cheek pinches that her grandmother would do without fail when visiting. But above all, Gen was never a hugger. She rolled her eyes at the one-armed hug and turned her nose up to any form of physical contact but now Bass never felt so lucky.

He let his fingers absently rake through and get entangled in her hair. He felt his scarred knuckles - from hours spent boxing without hand wraps - brush against the warm skin on her neck then he entwined his fingers together at the small of her back, feeling more of her heat radiating to his cold arms.

When Gen finally leaned back to look at his patient face, it finally dawned on her that maybe - after all these years - her entire life was built up with bricks of varied titles along the spectrum of emotions inside of her. With just one look, the walls she spent years stacking and mortaring was in a pile of dusty rubble at the bottom of her heart.

Years of laboring - all gone- and just with one of his looks.

**Fifteen Years After the Blackout**

Gen sat on a rotatable stool in front of her cracked mirror. She never noticed when the glass had been fractured. Over the years, the dark wood frame had collected dust between the intricate designs along the sides and over the graceful curve of the top. The filthy nail-sized concave made the entire woodwork look old and worn.

She held a corner clump of a wet shirt and dabbed the thin material against the coagulated blood. The throbbing skin was blotched with sickly purple swells. It need not be said that the violently carved 'M' was indention as an eternal brand of possession. Gen sighed out loud and stared at her reflection - she looked like a Pablo Picasso painting. Her face was distorted and pulled in several directions in the reflected mirror.

Scars, she thought, were the proof that you had done something worthwhile in your life. She'd always believed that. She had the mended tissue over her thighs from all the times she would cut her legs with a rusty switchblade that she had found buried in the up-heaved dirt in the courtyard of Independence Hall.

All she wanted to do was leave. Not to go straight back to Jasper, Indiana like Bass clearly disapproved of. It didn't matter what he thought anyway. There was nothing left in her hometown but an empty house and echos of bad choices. No, she wanted to go to Chicago - maybe take a quick stop in Oak Park to visit Ernest Hemingway's birthplace. Gen knew she couldn't last in Phillie any longer than she could pretend to be happy. Bass had locked her in a beautiful dungeon where she would be treated to her every whim and fancy. He still didn't understand that since the very beginning he never had to coax her into following behind him in the steady march toward totalitarianism.

Gen was interrupted from her speechless brooding by a sharp knock on the door before the locked clicked open. She struggled to pull on a teal tank top before a uniformed messenger, who looked deceivingly similar to the other soldiers walking around, let himself inside. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her in the tank.

"Ever heard of knocking, soldier?" Gen spat out, adjusting the hem of the shirt on her hips and pushing her loose curls over her left shoulder to hide the deep gashes.

"I - I'm sorry, Miss Matheson," His voice cracked halfway through the apology, refusing to meet her piercing gaze. The young man clutched his hat, palms sweaty, and cleared his throat with more confidence. "Miss Matheson. General Monroe would like an audience with you, ma'am."

Gen tilted her head to the side, eyes squinting with a hint of recognition. He looked like Ben when she had last seen her little brother before she left for Basic Training. Her facial expressions softened at the memory of her little shook her head, snapping out of her empty reminiscing.

"Tell Monroe I'll come in my own time," She leaned down to snatch the shirt that she had dropped on the ground in her hurry to get a shirt on. Gen stuck a clean corner into the small glass of whiskey that was sitting beside her bedside, bracing herself for the sting that came shortly after she held it to her cuts.

"Ma'am," The messenger took a cautious step forward, his voice pleading for her to give him her full attention.

"You still here, soldier?" Gen said between grit teeth, precociously looking over her shoulder at him.

"General Monroe said you should come immediately, ma'am. He said - "

"Well, go tell your General Monroe to stick a jack up his ass if he wants a good lift." She groaned in irritation, chucking the shirt across the room in a sudden wave of rage. After a moment Gen covered her aching eyes with her fingers, running her hands down her face before turning to the soldier again, much calmer. "He wants me now?"

The soldier nodded loosely.

"And I'm guessing he sent you to take me to him personally, right?"

Another stupid looking nod.

Gen let out another heavy groan that hurt the sides of her throat. Without any sort of prompt, she was out the door and briskly walking through the corridors toward Bass's office. The messenger struggled to maintain a professional speed to keep up with her and stopped abruptly in the center of the office, snapping to attention.

"Would you look at that?" Gen sneered under her breath, coming to a stop beside Baker and crossing her arms while shifting most of her weight to one leg leaving the other bent. "I trained your monkey's well."

Bass shifted his amused eyes from Gen back to the soldier who held his salute firmly until the General had dismissed him.

Baker stood at ease with his hands clasped together at the small of his back toward the left side of the centered desk that Bass leaned against. Gen didn't bother looking at him for too long, her eyes immediately bored into Sebastian's. He was dressed in his dark blue uniform, a glass of whiskey poised in his hand which was lowered to chest level.

"You're dismissed, Captain Baker," General Monroe casually said, not missing a beat to stare right back at Gen with ease.

"Dragon Lady," Baker greeted her in a low mutter before exiting the office and shutting the door behind him.

"You called me," Gen matter-of-factly said, making it sound more like a half-bored question then a statement.

"I did," The brunette haired man took slow strides to lean against the window frame and cast a long stare out the open pane. "Marilyn." He half expected her to follow up with "Monroe" but she didn't.

A heavy silence settled over the room and Bass finished the whiskey at a leisurely pace, almost forgetting that Gen was there until she spoke up impatiently.

"Well, what do you want?"

"Don't," He started, throwing his hard gaze in her direction. "Don't talk to me like that, Genevieve."

Gen scoffed and rolled her eyes, sarcastically continuing without regret, "Well, what would you like me to say, General? Hold on, while I just jump on your communist bandwagon, will ya? Let me just blow the dust off my jump wings. How the hell am I supposed to fight the rebels with dust on my jump wings?!"

Before she knew it, Gen was pinned against a cabinet, the knobbed handles grinding against her spine. Bass held her wrists tightly in his deathly grip and glared down into her face with pure anger.

"I'm not going to be your little bitch anymore, Bass," Gen balled her fists so he could feel the muscles in her wrists flex in defiance.

"You have no right," he growled monotonously. "to talk to me like that."

"That was always your problem, Bass," She tilted her nose up, closing a bit more of the little space between their faces, her nostrils flaring. "You could dish it all out but you could never take it."

He slammed her spine against the knob again, connecting his lips against hers when her mouth opened to cry out in pain. This time, he distinctly noted, she was unresponsive to his kiss. Bass bit her bottom lip until he tasted blood and then flung her to the ground.

"I loved you!" He roared, pulling her to her feet and holding her up with sudden care.

"I know," Gen wiped her bloody lip with the side of her pointer finger. "And if you loved me then you would let me go home. Not to Indiana. Let me go back to South Carolina."

"I have a better idea for you,"

*****Revolution*****

Gen paced outside of the metal door for a solid five minutes before reluctantly pulling the heavy latch and stepping in the workshop. The first scent that struck her nose was the oil followed closely by the smell of metal tools and rich dirt. She went down the rust covered stairs before looking up at the thin tanned face of her sister-in-law.

"Gen?" The nerves in Rachel's throat stood out like she was trying to keep composed.

"Rachel," was her abrupt - almost rude - reply as she stepped off the stairs and sauntered a few feet away from the blonde woman.

"You're bleeding," Rachel quietly observed with a hint of concern, her eyes glued to the ugly gashes on Gen's skin.

Gen let out a dismissive sigh, casually taking a bout around the room and looked back at Ben's wife. "Always knew you were smart."

"Let me help you," The blonde offered, parting her thin lips knowing full-well that Gen would curtly decline. "I know you never liked me, Gen, but..."Her meeble, tortured voice drew out and disappeared in a void of silence.

Gen leaned her torso against the wooden work table that was between them, her fingernails rapping against the softened surface in agitation, eyes glistening with years of unshed tears.

"You know I honestly thought he could change." She hopelessly admitted. "Call me naive, Rachel. He has all this power and he doesn't know what the fuck to do with all of it."

A concerned knot fell between Rachel's eyes. She didn't throw out reassuring words to comfort her sister-in-law because she knew better than anyone that it would be an insult to Gen's hardened heart. Nor did she attempt to offer any sort of advice because no one listens to the advice of others anyway - she didn't listen to her own advice when she had flings with Miles - her husband's older brother. So Rachel just stood there listening to Gen talk and cry and empty her heart out. Rachel knew full well that Gen didn't want sympathy, all she wanted was for someone to listen.

"Ugh," Gen muttered, wiping the tears from under her eyelashes, inwardly cursing herself for letting her guard down in front of the one woman she hated with a burning passion. "Let's just forget this ever happened."

"Consider it forgotten," Rachel whispered, wrapping an cotton afghan over her shoulders.

"Look," Gen held out a hand, her tone almost apologetic. "Bass sent me. You know what he wants."

"I don't know how to turn the lights back on Gen."

"And I believe you, Rachel. I really do," She insisted, making her way back to the stairs that led up to the door before turning back to look at her sister-in-law again. "You know, I'm planning on blowing this joint. If you want in..."

"I have to stay here," Rachel resolutely declared, surprising even herself at the force she put behind the words.

"I'll stop by before I go. In case, by some divine intervention, you change your mind."


	6. The Great Escape

**I would just like to throw out a big thanks to all of you! Notably TheExperimenter10. She literally helped me understand my own character so much better. I wouldn't have been able to wrap my head around this chapter if it wasn't for her :)**

* * *

When Gen was weeded out of the crowd, after her short conversation with Rachel, and placed in General Monroe's office at his request she wasn't surprised. Bass stood over a heavy mahogany table, looking down at a crisp map spread out of the Monroe Republic. A finger was poised on a point in the far western territories near the shores of old New Jersey, but his green eyes were fixated on another region ways from the west, lost in deep thought.

"What did our mutual friend say?" He glanced up; his tone flat and overall uninterested.

"She told me what I told you," Gen replied indifferently to match him. "She doesn't know how to turn the lights back on."

A low growl vibrated off Bass' throat as he straightening himself up.

Gen continued, trying to justify the lack of progress for Rachel's sake. "Miles couldn't get anywhere either."

"Don't -" He held his hand up to stop her from continuing. "Don't mention him."

"I'm sorry." She quickly attempted to revive the conversation before he wanted to play with her in his sadistic ways. "What do you plan on doing about Foster? Rumor's circulating in the barracks that she's planning to attack."

Sebastian Monroe smirked, sitting down on his polished chair and leaning back with his hands folded on his lap. He squinted his eyes slightly to focus on her face. "Foster's all talk and no action. She's the least of my concerns, but you're on a blurred line, Genevieve. When I look at you carefully I see myself staring back. What does that mean, do you think? Why is it," as he said this, his left hand curled into a fist. "Why is it that I never want to lose you but you make me hate you so much?"

Gen parted her lips to offer some sort of apology but she quickly realized that she had nothing to be sorry for. Bass had his green eyes firmly glued on her; all his senses were alert and studying every bat of her eyelashes. Suddenly the toe of his large combat boot began swiveling back and forth with force so that the office chair which he was situated on swayed to and fro.

It was moments like these—these stare-downs that brought out either of their boiling stubbornness and refusal to be the first one to fold—when Gen wanted to blow the joint and get the hell out of Pennsylvania. Miles had been coming to her mind lately and Gen wondered if it would've been better if she had with him when she had the chance. She could have saved herself a lot of trouble if she had. If it wasn't for the occasional salty remarks from Baker, Gen would have felt totally abandoned and disconnected to the times when things weren't so high strung.

Familiar faces were scarce now since Bass never trusted one person long enough to keep them around. Several loyal officers were overlooked and sent to far-off posts and replaced by easily indoctrinated men from the rabble of freshly trained recruits who were overly zealous war-mongers. When she finally realized how fast the world around her was moving, Gen's mind had an out of body sinking feeling. The overdeveloped sense of confidence and enthusiasm that came with youth was now wasted away with her sitting for hours and hours trapped in her bedroom.

She must have broken the stare sometime during the myriad of thought because when she blinked she was looking up into Sebastian's face.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, Gen?" His breath landed as warm caresses when the smooth syllables rolled off his tongue.

"I—" Her voice faltered, sputtered, and died.

"Talk to me, baby," Bass insisted, holding her elbows and pulling her against him as he took a step back to lean against the front of his desk.

"I don't feel well." She effortlessly pulled out of thin air. "I need to lie down."

He stood straighter, alert. "My room is close by."

"No," Gen almost said too quickly but caught herself. "I want to go where my books are. I need to be close to comfort."

"Gen," He chuckled, steering her toward the door reassuringly. "I can have them brought to you."

"Please," She begged, pretending to waver where she stood, forcing him to catch her waist before she tumbled backwards.

"Easy," He exclaimed, coiling his right arm under her knees and picking her up. "Open the door!" With wide, panic-filled eyes, Bass looked down to see Gen's neck bent back uncomfortably over his forearm.

The uniformed soldiers on guard just outside didn't miss a beat to push open the heavy doors to see their General holding the woman they all feared since her first welcome as they exited the militia recruit training ships. The once fierce woman now hung limply from Monroe's arms. "Get the fuck out of the way." He roared at the gaping soldiers, pushing past them and running as fast as he could to his large chambers.

He laid her against the clean sheets, pulling a chair up to the bedside. Gen kept still and controlled her breathing such that he couldn't tell that she was conscious. There was a chance that he would stay beside her but judging from his past neglect she doubted it.

But Bass caught her by surprise by rooting himself in his place and going to such lengths as to taking her hand between both of his. "You have to stay with me, Gen." He spoke softly next to her, squeezing her fingers. "Gen," He continued persistently. "Gen, I know you think I'm a real ass for letting things spiral out of control since the Blackout. It's getting harder for me to do things for you. Maybe…maybe that's why I get angry at you. I guess I blame you because I can't do things that I used to be able to. I want to give you what you deserve. But I'm not the man I used to be. You saw that before I did. I'm not the man you keep waiting for me to turn back into again. I've changed, and I've forced you to do the same. But you're not like all these socialites that I can depersonalize. That's proved counterproductive with you Matheson's."

Gen had heard enough of his cheap excuses. She sucked in a mouthful of air and let out a small moan followed by deep breaths which made her chest rise and fall steadily for him to see.

"Bass?" was her airy first words before her eyes slowly opened; eyelashes batting a few times to adjust to the bright stream of lights. After another soft moan she turned her head to rest her dewy eyes on him. He sat still with his hand still clasping hers, holding her fingers against his lips. A twinge of pity went through Gen's body. He was built like Adonis—charismatic, charming, had an all-or-nothing personality which ever girl would die to get a piece of—but though this was his main trophy, Bass was emotionally fragile. He proved it just a moment ago.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a slightly cracked voice.

She nodded, throwing him a drowsy look before sitting up, still acting. "What happened?"

He released her hand so that he could entwine his own fingers together, resting his scarred knuckles under his nose. "You fainted."

Gen feigned innocence with a helpless, sideways smile. "I guess it's the heat."

Bass kept his statuesque pose but shifted his gaze toward the air vent beneath the faded white crowing. There was a time when the bronze finished vent used to blow out cold air to cool down Independence Hall on hot days such as today. "I can close the windows." He offered, starting to move toward the large windows which he always kept thrown open. Gen caught his hand.

"No, please…just sit…with me."

He did as she asked without question or opposition. Sebastian may have separated himself from the world but he could never miss an opportunity to read a Matheson. And what years of experience had taught him was that Gen only behaved so endearingly when she had something up her sleeves.

"I've missed you." Her fingers grazed his dry lips then held his head to run her thumbs against his curved eyebrows. "I've always wanted you to be happy, Bass. And if I had any to give you, I would. I would give you my entire world if you wanted it." She sat up on her knees, dropping the act, and pulling him on the bed. "Do you want the moon, Bass? I'll give you the moon."

"I just want you." He whispered truthfully, easing their bodies against each other on the bed. She was warm. "You take all my stress away, Gen."

She ran her fingers through his curly blonde hair and brought his head against her chest. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Are you sure?"

Bass took the hand she had on his toned shoulder and kissed her palm. "It's the only thing I'm sure about."

They lay like that for forty five minutes, according to Gen's patient counting. He had fallen asleep half an hour ago and now it was time for her to leave. For good. Gen slipped out from underneath Monroe and was quite eager to climb out the open window and down to the balconies below, but she stopped for a moment to snatch the make-shift sword that Bass kept under the bed. With one last glance at him, Gen slid the sword into her belt, put her hands against the window pane and eased herself down to the first footing she could find.

When her feet touched the cobbled ground, Gen knew she was halfway done. Her adrenaline pumped double-time as she forced herself to casually walk toward the main gate and was allowed through without being stopped. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't anywhere near done until she had gotten out of the Monroe Republic and so Gen's great escape began.


End file.
